A/N: Here's another chapter. Please read and review. Perfection cannot be made without critique...

Chapter 3

A click echoed off the stone walls, followed by a sound of stone grinding on stone. The bookshelf beside her desk slid aside, revealing a narrow passage into the unknown.

Seeing a chance to escape the woman, Revara dashed across the room and flung herself through the opening. She nearly plunged down the steps that seemed to appear out of nowhere, but quickly righted herself and took the circular metal stairs three at a time.

“Oh my God.” she gasped, as she reached the bottom and spilt into a large underground grotto. “I’m in a dungeon.”

“Now lass.” The softly lilting voice sounded amused, nevertheless, the sparse hairs along Revara’s neck stood on end. “That is no way to talk about the laboratory.”

“I’m crazy.” Revara assured herself, ignoring the apparition as best she could. “That’s all there is to it, Lanna was right, I need to leave here and go home… I’m rich, yeah, I can get the best treatment money can buy. So I’ll just get out of here and go back to…” She glanced at the woman, hoping this delusion had come as quickly as it had gone.

“Go back?” The woman said fearfully, her accent growing more pronounced in her irritation. “Nae, you canna’ go back to wherever it is you come from.”

“See?” Revara asked herself. “You just think you see a woman from a painting standing there and talking to you… with a Scottish accent nonetheless.” She shook her head and brought her hands up to her hair.

“Bite your tongue, you wee whelp.” The woman said, not really sounding angry but amused. “I am no Scots I will have you know.”

“Oh?” Revara challenged. “So, you’re what? An Italian with a head cold?”

“You should go and sit down and I promise to tell you all about myself.” The woman said, raising her hand and pointing to a small wooden chair. “…Unless you want to disappoint me. I can tell you now; it is not a good notion.”

“You don’t understand.” Revara said, trying to rationalize with the apparition. “I can’t be talking to you because you’re not… well you’re a…”

“I am not dead. I am not a painting.” The woman said her ire real this time. “Mayhap it would help to think of me as your subconscious something or other.”

“My subconscious inner medieval woman?” Revara asked, but she sank into the uncomfortable wooden chair. The woman watched her carefully, not moving from her post at the foot of the stairs.

“Whatever keeps you here, lass.” The woman took a deep breath and smiled at her new friend. “My name is Enola.”

“I’m Revara.” Revara replied, thinking, even if she was crazy, at least she still had manners.

“Aye, lass. Your Auntie told me about you. She left you a letter; it sits on the table near the wall, but wait a minute before you stand.” She added the last when Revara tensed to stand up. “Now, let us begin again.” Revara nodded, shifting in the uncomfortable wooden seat.

“My name is Enola O Conchobhair Mentochiesa, I am the cursed one, doomed to watch over this place for eternity.” Revara thought it was the perfect way to begin a story and tried to get more comfortable on the rough wooden chair.

“My curse is one I cast myself… of course; it did back fire a wee bit.” She added with a slight twinkle in her sad eyes. “Your dear Aunt Lynea tried to break the curse, it consumed her entire life… and I think, I hope she was getting closer to the truth before she…”

“Before she died.” Revara supplied helpfully.

“I was about to say something more dramatic, you young harpy.” Enola said warningly. “Now, if you are done interrupting me, mayhap we can finish this story before you go and die as well.”

Revara nodded, but disliked the way Enola spoke of her aunt’s death, as if by dying, the aging woman had betrayed Enola.

“As I was saying, your aunt” She sighed and shook her head. “… Died. But before she passed this earthly plane, she found something, I think it was the key to my bondage… she found the name of my betrayer.” Enola looked quite pleased and raised an imaginary glass in toast to the dead woman.

Revara bit her lip, to stifle the questions bubbling forth from her mouth. “You may ask your questions now, lass.” Enola allowed.

A million questions swirled in her mind. “Why would you curse yourself?” She asked, thinking if she were crazy, she might as well have something original to tell her shrink. Although, it can’t get more original than meeting a painting. She warned herself.

Enola smirked slightly. She had succeeded in calming the impossibly young woman seated before her by appealing to her curiosity. She had often used the same method of persuasion on Lynea.

“Ach, it wasn’t exactly a curse, though it has become one.” She looked around the lab, gathering her thoughts. “Si Codael Tesi.” She said after a moment of silence. “It means the hidden curse, and it’s a way of hiding yourself, for a time, until you are set free.

“I used it, when my life was in danger.” She shook her head, knowing her words didn’t convey the desperation she had felt. “It wasn’t supposed to last for an eternity, just until my brother, Aleric, could help us.”

“Us?”

“Er, no.” Enola said, her eyes studying something of interest over Revara’s shoulder. “I meant help me…” Revara’s eyebrows shot up, but she held her tongue… for now.

“My brother must have heard that I was dead. I’m sure the messenger never found him.” Enola met Revara’s eyes again, smiling grimly.

“You mean, he died?” Revara asked, hating the quips and less than complete story Enola was giving her.

“My brother?” Enola asked, confused.

“The messenger.” Revara was getting irritated. Creepy, scary painting or not, she just wanted to know what was going on so she could wake up from this dream and go on with her business.

“No, she couldn’t have died. I think someone must have captured her.” Enola said evasively.

“And my aunt found out who that was?” Revara prodded, feeling as if she were trying to get information out of the, at times, close mouthed Alanna.

“I think so.” Enola admitted carefully. She bit her lip in consternation. “She didn’t tell me exactly.”

“Hmm, you know, I have no idea what is going on, so why don’t you just start at the beginning?” Revara prodded after it became obvious the woman wasn’t about to continue.

“You mean my life story?” Enola asked, her emerald green eyes lighting up in anticipation.

She is Irish. Revara thought with a slight smirk. There was nothing her father had loved more than ‘spinnin’ a yarn.’ “I’m sure we have the time.”

“I might be persuaded to tell you the tale.” Enola agreed with mock reluctance. “Provided we go back upstairs and visit the kitchen.”

Since the laboratory still seemed like a dungeon and, therefore, gave Revara the creeps, she agreed with a nod. Grabbing the letter before she left, Revara was all too happy to return to the main part of the house.

They sat down at the comfortable kitchen table, their hands warming over a cup of tea with a small plate of cookies between them before Enola began her tale.

“I was born in the wee hours of morn, on the day of the spring equinox, in the Christian year 1542.” Enola began without any preamble. “My father, Dillon O’Conchobhair held title to the lands, though they had passed to him through my mother; Alanna. He was a very good lord and loved my mother passionately. The first years of my life were a happy time, for their love spilled over onto me.” Her eyes lit up as she was taken back to her childhood, stifling a fit of jealousy, Revara waited for her companion to continue.

“When I was five years old, my father was killed by a neighboring lord who attacked our castle. I was heartbroken, but the worst came a few months later when my mother married, Edan O'Faelechoin, the very man who slew my father in battle.” Revara was stunned by Enola’s words, her jealousy being replaced by sympathy.

“I hated her, for a time, but as grew older, I understood why she had to marry him.” Here she smiled sadly and looked directly into the sea green eyes regarding her sadly. “He raped her, the same night he killed my father… she was with child.”

Revara bit her lip, suddenly uncomfortable with learning so much about this woman. “I’m sorry.” She said, not knowing why she felt such guilt.

“Don’t be, my brother Alaric was a fine child. All light and goodness.” Her eyes twinkled as she thought of her long dead brother. Revara couldn’t have imagined finding something good in murder and rape, but this woman had.

“In my fourteenth year, my step-father arranged my marriage to Emilio Mentochiesa. I wasn’t very happy with the idea, marrying a foreigner and a Christian, but I stayed silent, hoping to save my mother from my step father’s temper.”

“Why did it bother you marrying a Christian?” Revara asked when Enola paused to take sip of her mint tea.

“My mother was a Druidess, as was I. O'Faelechoin knew this, he allowed it to continue because of his fear for our powers. He didn’t like it, however, and I believe he wanted to send me to Italy in an attempt to convert me and maybe gain more power over me in the process.”

Revara didn’t need to see the ironic smile to tell her that O'Faelechoin had failed. “What about your husband?” Revara asked. “I know the Catholic Church wasn’t very supportive of… pagans and your husband must have been Catholic.”

“You are right about his faith.” Enola admitted with a shrug. “Emilio never knew. He loved the Church more, more than he loved God, I think. And when people are that obsessed, it’s very easy to fool them.” She stopped and looked carefully at Revara.

Revara pursed her lips, Enola’s eyes when she spoke of her marriage was similar to the look her mother’s held when she spoke of various business arrangements… and Revara. “You didn’t love him.” She stated, her tone making it clear it was not a question.

“I…” Enola tried. “I was fond of him. But no, it was an arranged marriage. We both knew it was a political move and neither of us expected the other to abide by the vows set upon us.

“We traveled a bit, after our marriage. He was fascinated with the early church; it was an obsession for him, to discover the secrets held by time.” She smiled ironically and shook her head. “I could have shown him everything he wanted to know, but Desmonde warned me not to show him.”

“Desmonde?”

“My… sister in law.” Revara wondered at the hesitation, but didn’t press further. “She said he didn’t really want to know the truth. He just thought he did.”

“Desmonde knew something.” Revara supplied. “Something that would upset Emilio.”

“Aye.” Enola actually chuckled as her memories passed through her minds eye. “She even had proof.”

Revara waited for Enola to take a sip of her tea. “So, what kind of proof are we talking about?”

“A scroll, we found in Egypt the first year of my marriage with Emilio.” Enola replied, her vague generalities maddening the young blonde.

“Well, that clears it up.” She said sarcastically. “I mean, a ‘scroll’ about the early Catholic Church found in the mid fifteen hundreds. Wow thanks, that only narrows down the time frame to, hmm.” She pursed her lips in pseudo concentration. “Oh, anywhere between the year zero and fifteen fifty eight.”

Enola gave her a curious look. “How did you know the year?” She asked.

“You were engaged when you were fourteen to a man in a foreign country. It must have taken about two years to set up the dowry and to come to a compromise with the different customs.” It was the truth, but Enola still looked at her suspiciously.

“Hmm, you’re right.” She admitted. “But how did ye know about all of that?” She demanded.

“It’s what I do.” Revara said evasively. Enola said nothing, just raised her eyebrow at her response. “I was majoring in Criminal Psychology, not that you’re a criminal, it’s just I learned different ways to siphon through information and create a time table.” She said, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Must be useful, I suppose.” Enola admitted. She toyed with her empty tea cup as she collected her thoughts.

“The scroll contained another account of the life of Jesus of Nazareth. It was written by the Apostle, James the Less, of course, the correct term for him didn’t imply that he was less than James the great, only that he was little.” Here she smirked. “He had good reason for being little, but we’ll come to that in time.”

“Why did… Desmonde want to keep it hidden?”

“Well, it showed a different light on some of the ideas taking shape within the Catholic Church at the time. Ideas on diversity, acceptance and salvation.”

Revara cast her mind back to her high school and grimaced when she realized what Enola was saying. “The Inquisition?”

“Aye.” Enola’s eyes took on a blank dead look at the word, and Revara could swear a shudder passed through the woman. “The Inquisition went directly against all of the Gospels, not just the one Desmonde found.

“You see, Revara, The Bible of now and The Bible of my time, is completely different, every generation changing, maybe, one word.” Enola explained carefully. “And the Bible of 1542 and the actual accounts of Jesus’ life, were very different.”

“Okay.” Revara said, wondering why Enola seemed so pensive over this information. It wasn’t something she really cared about one way or the other, but Enola acted as though Revara would attack her for uttering this idea.

“So, because he was so enamored with The Church, Desmonde hid the scroll and only ever showed it to me.”

“Why did she show it to you?” Revara asked.

“She… trusted me.” Enola said evasively, not meeting Revara’s eyes. “She knew I didn’t really care one way or the other.”

“I’m guessing that someone found out.” Revara stated bluntly, her mind going over the possible suspects and settling on Emilio as the most obvious suspect.

“Aye, they killed Emilio and Desmonde sent me here to her private villa. I didn’t use Si Codael Tesi until they reached the door.” Enola said, half defiantly.

“Yes, about this… thing.” She said, she didn’t even bother trying to wrap her mouth around the mystical sounding words. “How exactly did it go wrong?”

Enola tilted her head, as if considering the question very carefully. “Give me your hand, lass.” She commanded. Revara hesitated for a moment before complying.

The walls of the room shimmered, and Revara felt herself becoming less solid. Then she was falling and flying. The only things that remained constant was the firm pressure on her hand and Enola’s emerald green eyes gazing steadily back at her.

She found herself in a small cottage, homey looking, with its large fireplace reeking of peat smoke, and the carefully made bed in the corner. Various herbs and plants hung from the ceiling.

Situated cozily in front of the fireplace, a young girl sat on the floor beside an old crone in a sturdy wooden rocking chair.

“What is Si Co…”The girl couldn’t get her mouth past the words and the woman smiled fondly at her young companion.

“See Co-dayal Tessee.” The old crone annunciated carefully. The girl nodded, and the old woman sighed , her eyes staring into the fire before answering. “Tis’ the hidden curse. Tis a way of hiding yourself, for a time, until you are set free.”

“How does it work?” The child asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Do ye think to be hiding yourself from that new da’ of yours?” The girl didn’t answer, just shrugged and hung her head.

“It wouldna work, lassie. Ye canna hide yourself without a fair amount of pain.” She patted the head affectionately. “Plus, ye dinna know how to get yourself out.”

“How?” The little girl asked, her eyes wide with fear.

“Ach, and what would a wee child like yerself need to know of such things?” the old woman teased gently. “Si Codael Tesi can be repaired when an exchange of hearts is made, and your love spills his own blood on yer behalf.”

The little girl frowned and considered these words. “Does it have to be a boy?” She asked worriedly. The old woman smirked and shrugged.

“And you think of someone else instead?” The girl nodded solemnly

“My horse, A’shignon, is the only thing I love.” The little girl said fiercely. “And she’s a girl.” The old woman’s laughter faded and Revara was once again seated at her cozy table, the woman across from her gazing at her in consternation.

“What was that?” Revara asked, once she retrieved her hand from Enola’s.

“A memory.” She replied. “That was me and my grandmother.” Enola added unnecessarily. “I dinna have such a way with words as me grandmam.”

“So, the only way to get out is for…” She paused and tried to think of the correct word. “Your true love to spill his blood on your behalf.”

Enola didn’t answer, at least not right away. “It’s the only way I’ll get out of this painting.” She said finally, deciding it was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire truth.

“So, how does my aunt come into this?” Enola visibly brightened, her wet-emerald eyes showing relief at this change of venue.

“It isn’t a very remarkable story, as most stories involving magic are.” Enola warned. “Your aunt Lynea was simply doing some research into your family’s history. She came across my name, and for some reason, was intrigued.

“She found out everything she could about me. She discovered this was the last place I lived, and she fell in love with the place. Said she felt as though the house welcomed her.” Enola blushed slightly, but continued on. “It did, I welcomed her presence. For too long had I been alone, sealed in the laboratory.

“The townsfolk wouldna come near the place. Thought it was haunted… which in a way, it was. Ya see, I am a part of this house… it’s not just the painting that holds me.”

In a way, it made sense to Revara. “So, you know when someone is here, or is getting ready to leave?” She asked, remembering her feelings of panic almost four weeks ago.

“Aye.” Came the simple reply.

“What if the house were destroyed?” Revara challenged. Enola smiled and shook her head.

“It can’t be destroyed.” She said. “Ancient spells guard this place, I made sure of it when Desmonde and I…” She stopped and tilted her head. “Hid the scroll here.” She finished.

An idea was beginning to form in Revara’s mind and she decided to test the waters a bit. “You must have had someone in mind, someone whom you loved and who loved you as well… what happened?”

Enola shook her head, not meeting Revara’s eyes. “I dinna know.” She said.

“Hmm, let me see,” Revara said, forming a line of events in her mind. “You and Desmonde found this scroll, hid it here and you sent Desmonde off to Ireland to your brother, knowing that he could help you.”

“He was here, in Rome. Speaking against the inquisition.” She said this proudly, her shoulders squaring a bit and a fond smile gracing her features. “But the rest is correct.”

“Then my aunt finds out about you… somehow, and now I’m here to take her place?” Enola shrugged. “She didn’t even know me, and she wants me to give up my life so I can help someone who should be dead?”

Enola looked up, her eyes full of resignation. “I can understand ye not wanting to help… it’s asking a lot.” She stood up to leave, though Revara had no idea where a woman who was trapped in a painting could possibly go.

“Wait, let me think on it a bit… maybe read the letter from Lynea.” Enola nodded, but didn’t turn back. “I’m sorry, it’s just a bit sudden.” She tried, but Enola was gone, and Revara knew she had returned to her prison.

The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon when Revara sank into one of the comfy arm chairs in the study. She didn’t avoid looking at the painting, but didn’t notice anything different, except Enola looked a bit sadder than normally… and now she looked to the east window. She also did not attempt to rationalize the previous night. She did not know if it was because her mind was in a state of shock, or because she just felt so overwhelmed, but whatever it was, her common sense told her to take everything at face value… until she could be sure she was crazy.

The envelope in her hand had only one word on it in spidery script. “Revara.” Glad to finally have some link to the woman who had changed her life, Revara slowly turned the envelope over and slid out a thick, parchment like bundle of papers.

Settling back, Revara opened the bundle, grateful her aunt had used this paper… it all added to the sense of adventure.

“Dear Revara,”

“I’m guessing you have discovered my secret ‘laboratory.’ It’s an awfully scientific word to use though, isn’t it. I’m going to have to forge ahead and hope you have discovered my other secret, Enola.

“She’s an interesting character, don’t you think? So desperate for help and holding so much back. I can tell you this now, but I didn’t like her at first. So snotty and secretive, all the time. After half a lifetime of her half truths and outright lies, I don’t even know why I’m bothering to write this letter. Actually, that’s not true.

“See, family is important to me. You are probably laughing to hear me say that. After all, you’ve never even met me. But you and I are descendants of Aleric, Enola’s brother. We owe it to her to help. It’s a family obligation.

“But I can’t force you into anything. Unless, of course I can come back to haunt you. But, since I have lived for ninety years and never even saw a curtain move on its own volition, I am sure that I won’t be haunting you. It should be your decision anyway, I guess.

“There is so much I want to tell you, so much that I can’t tell you. Things you must figure out for yourself. I hate it when people tell me that but it is true. You will only know the truth about yourself if you help Enola.

“So now I should tell you any pertinent information, damn it, I wish I could leave this to Wayland. Now, first of all, Enola may only come out of her painting for three nights. That’s the night preceding the full moon, the night of the full moon and the night after the full moon. Those times are very important, she will be able to travel back with you, rather than just showing shadows. She will be tangible, that is, you’ll be able to touch her, and you’ll be able to see her, but to everyone else, she won’t exist.

“For the rest of the lunar cycle, she can only exist inside the painting and she can only ‘wake up’ at night. This is the time she can show you her memories. You’ll just be a shadow, though, so don’t try to interact with anything. I have found her memories to be an excellent starting point for my investigations.

“Down in the lab I have left all of my notes and research from my many years of trying to find the key to breaking Enola’s bonds to the painting, but never once was she very helpful with giving me answers to that either. I’m really sorry to leave in this catastrophe of a mess, but time will not let me clean things up for you a little better.

“Also, I am sure that by now you have probably found the Praying Room with my journals. That is another good place to look as well. Many of the things that I didn’t want anyone to see I placed there. You’ll also have to do a lot of deciphering of the Elvish language. Enola can grant you knowledge of that with some of her abilities.

“I hope you decide to help complete an old woman’s quest and breaking a relative’s eternal prison.

“Revara, please remember that this is something that no one can know of, no matter what the cost is. I have already made some mistakes with that and the town’s people already think of me a cracker.

“If you haven’t encountered the superstitious fools yet, do me a favor and just allow Wayland to take care of anything you need. After all, it’s what you pay him to do.

“Don’t make this decision lightly, Revara. Ask questions; consider everything before you agree to help her. It could very well be something that will devour your entire life.

“I wish I could have talked to you in person. The end came too quickly, but that’s true for everyone.

Kyr Jhes eil Shaeraer Shi.

Lynea O’conner”

Revara woke up to a soft nudging on her shoulder. “Wake up, lass.” Opening her eyes, she met the emerald green gaze of Enola.

“I was kind of hoping it had been a dream.” She muttered, yawning and collecting the letter from her aunt. “She said to make sure I ask a lot of questions.” Revara challenged.

“Hmm, I made something to eat. I dinna know if it is dinner or breakfast, but food always makes questions and answers smoother.” With that, she turned and led the way to the kitchen.

“So, tell me more on this Druid thingy.” Revara asked, placing her chin in the palm of a hand, leaning against the kitchen table, the simple meal offered by Enola having been demolished.

“Druidism isn’t a ‘thingy.’ It is a simple religion.” Enola said uncomfortably.

“I’m…” Revara winced at her blunder; it was her blush more than anything that soothed Enola’s agitation.

“Within each clan of Druids,” she began, letting Revara know her mistake was forgiven, “three are three specialties: Bards, Ovates, and the Druids or Druidesses. The Bards dealt more in the philosophical, that is studying and committing to memory our traditions, history and lore. The Ovates, which I am kin to, worked with death and regeneration. We were healers for the clan, sometimes physical healers and other times spiritual. The last were the Druids and Druidesses. They were the business conductors and managed the professional areas.” Enola finished, taking a deep breath before releasing it with a look of sadness in her eyes. “My ma was a healer and so was Aleric, but he flowed to two groups… the Ovates from my ma and the Druid from his da…

There are many misconceptions of the Druids in this age. They are not Satanists as some religions have made them out to be.”

“I thought that Druidism was into witchcraft and spells. That whole voodoo stuff,” Revara realized that her sarcasm was starting to cause trouble. The look that she received from the woman across from her was one of piercing daggers.

“We are, in a sense, but we call it casting. Plus we use a lot of herbs. It is nothing at all like mainstream Christians have made us out to be. We use a lot of meditation and self defining rituals.”

“Show me something then,” Revara quirked a small grin of interest and yet doubt.

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“What do you mean? Show me something you can do.” Revara knew that she was probably pressing her luck with this.

“Magick and casting is not for fun and games, ya wee yap.”

“Oh c’mon, Enola. What would it hurt to do one tiny spell?” Revara begged, wanting to see something that couldn’t be scientifically explained.

“Do not speak of such things that you do not know the weight of.” With that, Enola stood and walked out of the room and back into the study.

Revara felt somewhat guilty for being so pushy. This woman didn’t have to tell her these things… so why was she?

Considering the story that she had already enveloping her mind, hearing that there was the chance that magic really existed didn’t seem to shock Revara. Tonight would be the final night of Enola’s release before into the painting she would go for a month, giving Revara time to really understand the decision she would need to make.

The sun rose early, waking the life in its tidal wave of good morning dews. Revara rose warily from bed and went to her of lately normal morning spot where she let her mind wake and contend on the gremlins of her thoughts. Would she become a shadow of her aunt, losing her mind and going lonely when years have passed and she didn’t succeed either at trying to release a distant relative? If she did this, lies would have to be carefully endured for no one could ever know about what the future might present. Her time would be needed for researching and trying to find that one link that would provide a woman mortal life.

If she chose not to do it, she could continue a normal life with a husband, two kids, and maybe a little dog, free of paranoia of the men in white jackets taking her off and storing her in a lovely padded room, free of serious doubt about ones own life. On the other hand, she could succeed and still somewhat live a regular life with the American Dream of the perfect family but also have a sight into the wonders of the world… that is if her mind could accept what might be.

Then again, that woman could be playing a really fantastic trick; trying to get the best of her and whatever else she could get her hands on, like Revara’s mind.

“What am I thinking? How do I know if any of this is legit? She could just be pulling a fast one over me and I don’t even know. Then again, she could be telling the truth… or really missing a few marbles in the noggin… and this could be why I feel so attracted to this house. If this is my payment for all of this, then maybe I should be grateful and repay the debt to Lynea by accepting this and finishing what she started… but is it worth it?” Revara couldn’t sort out the little monsters of optimism and pessimism growing her mind. She didn’t know what to do.

Over the next three weeks, talking to Enola through the canvas, Revara still couldn’t make heads or tails of anything. Not one thing stuck out more than others.

“So what is it like in there?” Revara asked one evening, staring at the picture to try and comprehend its ways.

“In here? Nothing… nothing but darkness and this one window to the outside world. Centuries ago, I had actually spent weeks trying to see if there were other ways out and yet in every direction I went, I ended up in the same place as before. It is very maddening,” Enola replied with weakness in her voice.

“Now I know that I have asked this before, but how do you get out again?” Revara asked, leaning forward in the cushioned chair facing the painting and placing her elbows on her knees.

Sighing, Enola once again went over the facts and yet had a calm tone. “The only way for me to be released is for the one that equally holds my heart as I hold theirs to commit a selfless act of love… sacrifice themselves for the imprisoned.”

“Now does that mean that they have to die?” Revara questioned on, wanting to make sure that everything made somewhat of sense.

“No, not necessarily. You must remember that it can only be someone who has given an equal exchange of heart in order for it to work. Then, they must commit a selfless act of sacrifice. It could be down to them shedding blood for me even if it was them who cut themselves.”

Nodding in understanding, Revara furrowed her brows closely together, not feeling at all comfortable with this. Some things just didn’t fall into place; no matter how many times this woman went over them. Turning to the sunrise, she remembered the previous day when Enola was frozen in time and Revara pulled down the painting to examine it. Taking it apart and studying the canvas, there was no way that this could have been a trick of technology. Her fingers coursed over the delicate paints that kissed the fabric. Even as she did, she felt the cloth give way slightly beneath her fingers to show flexibility.

What was it about this whole situation that she just couldn’t grasp? Her fingers couldn’t wrap themselves around the invisible object that kept her from believing any of this.

Turning her gaze back to the beautiful dawn, the sky danced and mingled with colors of a variety. Clouds clashed together in a wonderful array of chorus, beckoning the morn with welcome.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” Enola whispered from the wall.

“You must understand now that in this day and age, it is very hard to comprehend the existence of the things you speak of. Magic has been long forgotten and over time… something that you don’t see or practice becomes legend… a myth never to be truly believed in again.” Revara released the breath that she had been holding, deciding it was time that Enola knew what the one last thing she need to help solidify the current situation. “I need proof.”

“What about the memory that I shared with you?” Enola asked incredulously.

“Not enough… I need more proof than that.”

“… When the clock strikes sunset, I will give you your proof. Then hopefully you will make a decision.” Enola replied, feeling pressured into something she didn’t want to do… just yet. What was it that Enola wasn’t telling her? With that last thought, the sun rose over the crest and Enola’s figure froze with the look of sadness… or was it regret marked on her face?

The rest of the day blurred by with Revara pacing the house and wringing her hands. At one point she thought of leaving the house and going out, but remembered that she had no idea on where she could go. Grabbing one of the swords from the Praying room, she went out into the grounds to practice while waiting for night to come. Wearing her gym clothes of soft loose pants and a short t-shirt, Revara found a decent spot to train near the forests edge. Feinting and parrying as her feet pirouetted around the imagined attacker. The soft and faint image of Casey came before her with a smile as he attacked her. Moments passed where their swords met with strength and yet temptation. For a few brief moments, her heart lifted back into place as they caught swords and were mere inches from each other… so close that Revara could just barely catch his scent in the wind. It was that moment in time where everything stopped while admitting passage for their lips to finally meet.

Opening her eyes after coming so close to kissing the man she loved, her knees met with the ground when she realized that her mind had zoned out on her once again… and above all things it had to go to Casey.

With the confusion of everything that had occurred in the past weeks, now she didn’t know what to do or think of anything anymore. Her life had been traveling head first down a new path without thinking of consequences that it somehow left her judgment and decision making back at the fork in the road.

Without noticing the time besides the weather outside dropping a few degrees, Revara returned indoors and went to the master bathroom, leaving her sword on the kitchen table.

Stepping into the steaming jetted tub filled with the finest oils and aromas, Revara gently laid back, letting the water cover her. The sensation of the bath enveloping her senses lifted her mind and relaxed her soul.

“One of the luxuries Lynea at least put into this house.” Revara whispered over her parted lips. Hands draping over the sides, her muscles relented to the warmth. Lit candles lit the area ever so lightly that her eyes became heavy.

“How goes it?” Just as quickly as everything came, it left with the opening of the bathroom door. Going from relaxation to a speed runner, Revara scrambled for a towel and covered herself, splashing water over the sides of the tub.

“What the hell are you doing in here? Didn’t you ever learn the word privacy?” Revara barked, angry that her moments of bliss were interrupted.

“I said I would provide you proof. When I came out of the painting you were not there. So I came looking for you.” The look on Enola’s face was one of unchanging features, as if these two women had been friends for all their life. The only person before that had seen her nude was Alanna and even then it was an awkward and brief moment.

“Even though I have not made my decision does not mean that you can forget such things as respect and privacy. Get out or I’ll dismiss this whole matter with a firm NO!” Revara threw the towel at the woman, hugging the side of the bath, giving Enola an evil glare. Realizing her mistake in interrupting the moments of bathing, Enola retreated quickly.

Five minutes later after Revara debated on enjoying her bath still or completing this silly test of proof, she let her slight curiosity and exasperation win. Wrapping herself tightly with a soft towel and heading towards the bedroom, her thoughts once again went back to Casey. If he were in this situation, he would have said yes right off the bat… but then again with a woman as beautiful as Enola, he might have said yes before she even asked. His love for medieval history made him intriguing and mysterious to her. God, did she miss him.

“Let’s get this over with.” Revara frightened Enola a bit when she entered the room and barked, not checking her rudeness in back at the bathroom. Enola had cleared all of the large furniture out of the middle of the study and had placed candles around the Italian rug in the center.

“This will take us some time for the first go round. I will need to train you on meditation. Lay down across from me.” Enola stated, not giving much room for argument as she placed herself at one side of the circle. When Revara finally sat after much hesitation, Enola continued. “You must close your eyes and envision all negativity leaving your body through your fingertips and filling its place with a white light of purification. I find it best to have the negativity to leave from one side and the purified light to flow in through the other. You must take deep breaths in and out and lay straight with your arms at your sides for your chakras to be aligned. This will force the meditation to come faster, considering it will oxygenate your body. Do not lose your focus in this though, for you must tell me when you have reached the peace and clarity of rumination.”

Revara did as she was instructed, letting Enola slide a pillow beneath her head. Closing her eyes and concentrating on the task at hand, she realized it was easier said than done to release her negative thoughts, but finally managed to complete it after much time had passed. The feeling of the light filling her every limb was like exquisite chocolate, accompanied by the atmosphere of floating, a sweet breeze flowing around her. Completely enthralled with this new sensation, she almost forgot to whisper the words that she was ready.

Somewhere in the distant background a voice came, almost too low to hear. “Shar pyli, byrn ialai, eil saji iar shas sai ei sosti Ai caern.” In her mind, she heard the unknown tongue but also heard something in English. “What was done, now undo, and take us back to a time I knew.”

Her body moved through the never ending light. Something attached itself behind her navel and pulled her backwards with such fierceness that her breath caught in her throat. Everything blurred around her in a mix of colors, sending her head reeling in circles before dropping her on something hard and cold. Opening her eyes when a mix of indistinct voices reached her clouded ears, the smell that filled her nose and taste buds in the back of her throat was a coppery one, accompanied with the scent of manure. Pushing herself up and wiping off her hands, her voice caught in her throat as she fell back against a wall, terrified to move.

People were running around in the streets with the clashing of swords nearby. Screams echoed off of the walls in the alley she stood in between two small buildings. The house was gone and instead of a carpeted rug, there was moist mud beneath her. Crates were scattered around with barrels against the walls, rain dripping into the wood. Moving to one end of the alley, she peered her head out, horrified by the bloodshed that was there. Bodies of men, women, and children lay lifeless on the ground.

“Those two fighting over there are my da’s. The one with brown hair is my true da. The other is my step-da.” Whipping around at the sound of the voice stood Enola, translucent and yet visible. Her eyes were gloomy and her lips fought with something unforeseen as she looked upon the scene in front of them. Holding on to the wall, Revara looked on.

Both men had wonderful features, but the red haired man gave off the aura of pure evil. The other fought for love and life… what was this that she was feeling? Falling to her knees, a hand went to her chest as her heart seemed to tear in every which way. Watching the two men fighting filled her with such intense and raw emotion that she almost cried.

The battle continued near her and almost right on top of her as the red haired man pinned the other against the wall with a sword at his throat. Revara moved against the stone as to not be seen, but close enough to hear the words exchanged.

“You shall not win this fight, Edan, you wolf! You do not hold good intentions in your heart for this.” The man spat.

“And yet it is I who holds you captive with my steel at yer throat, Dillan O'Breithe. This war was won before you even knew it existed, man. I have bedded that ripe wife of yours and your ruling has ended and my new borders have been placed. She holds my bastard in her belly.” Edan finished his winning speech with a sinister laugh.

Gazing an eye around the corner to see, Revara watched in horror as Edan pulled the blade across the man’s throat with one swift movement that blood from the blade caught her face. Terrified beyond anything else when his eyes laid on her, she couldn’t move even the slightest as his hands gripped her shoulders and placed her against the wall where Dillan had just been.

“What did you hear, wench?” he growled, spitting on her face with his words.

“N-Nothing. I didn’t hear anything,” Revara squeaked, trying to get out of his grip. One hand had been placed firmly against her chest and the other held the tip of the sword at her throat. Pain shot through her every nerve as the point broke a layer of skin.

“Do not struggle against him, Revara. He will kill you.” Enola pleaded next to her, by the look in Enola’s eyes, this is not what she expected to have happened.

“What is this attire you bare, wench? Are you trying to be a man or something?” Edan asked, easing off slightly when he took a good look at her.

“Me lord, we beseech your help. The guards at the gate of the castle have barred our entrance.” Another man came up beside Edan, placing a hand on his weapon arm.

“Let me finish this wench first. A few more minutes will not damage us.” Edan gave Revara a sinister grin.

“Me lord, we have taken much damage. There will be more wenches for you to bed when all is through.” The man pleaded.

“Do not question my authority, Eowre, or forget your allegiance.” Edan barked. Something slid across her belly then… something small and innocent.

“Edan, you have already taken my da. Leave this woman alone or I will tell everyone that the child my ma bears is yours and what you did to achieve that glory… as well as how cowardly you killed my da considering I am witness to your deeds.” The girl said defiantly. For some reason with the girl there before her, Revara felt stronger and more rebellious than before.

“And what makes you think that the commoners will believe you, a naïve girl, over me, their new lord, Enola of the late Dillan O’Conchobhair?” Edan finally lowered his weapons and hoisted the small girl over his broad shoulder.

Revara got her first glance at the child when Edan walked away with a child over his shoulder and a head in his other hand. Enola’s eyes were tear stricken and yet she did not struggle with the brut. She only laid there with such sorrow in her eyes that once again Revara’s heart felt like it was breaking. Reaching out for the girl, Eowre held her back.

“Let me go, you jerk!” Revara struggled to get free, but receded when Edan turned around.

“Eowre, stay here and make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. I’ll be back to finish what I started with that wench.” Revara stopped struggling, hoping to think her way out of this. But the child Enola started struggling at his words. She fought him then, hitting his brick-like back with her tiny fists, her bellows of rage fading as they turned a corner and were gone.

“I will only present this offer once. I do not know where ye are from or who ye are, but leave now and never come back.” Eowre still held her waist closely to him with her back stiff against his chest as he whispered in her ear.

“But what about you? Won’t he kill you or something for this?” Revara didn’t turn, her gaze at the wall where she had last seen the child.

“I would rather be beaten down by a lass and shame my da’s name than to have that man kill a woman for pleasure and evil deeds.” His answer was one of venom.

“But you are pledged to him and what he says. Isn’t that how it works?”

“Nay, I was forced into this hell by me da. Now go. Just do me such kindness to take this hilt and strike me down.” Finally he turned her to look at him. Something about him made her agree.

Taking the sword as he knelt in the wet mud, Revara brought it down. Hearing the grunt and watching the slump of the man’s body made her cringe and drop the sword. Her feet backed her against the wall once more.

“Have you had enough proof now?” Enola came to her side once more and spoke calmly as she looked at the man on the ground. Nodding her head she turned to Enola, tears now flowing freely.

“Let us return then. Shar talaer, talyr shi ialyli, saji iar shas sai ei sosti shi shaelyl.”

Two days after the incident, what Enola called the first test, Revara still sat on the chair in the Praying Room, curled up with a blanket over her and staring out of the large windows.

A bandage had been placed over the wound on her neck… that had been enough proof for Revara… along with the mud that was trailed from the study and into the bathroom where Revara had thrown up violently. Standing in the doorway had been Enola, exchanging no words until Revara spoke.

Leaning over the toilet with her hands on either side of it, Revara’s mind was reeling too fast for her to catch. “Why would you want to go back to a time like that?”

“… Because it is my time.”

“Why… why are my emotions all out of whack?” Revara asked, her eyes filling again with hot tears. Her face crinkled with the dried blood on it. Even swallowing hurt considering it pushed against the wound on her neck.

“… I cannot answer that right now. In due time I will, though… I promise.”

For the next forty-eight hours, Revara didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, or even move from her position she contented with. Nothing could explain this one… nothing logical anyway. No matter how many times her mind ran over it… she couldn’t line up the pieces with other excuses as to what occurred…

Enola never once came to the door to check on Revara. It was ritualistic when Lynea was still among them that that room was hers and her time alone. Still, it didn’t feel right to bother anyone in there.

It startled and yet lightened Enola’s heart when on the third night of her release Revara entered the room and looked out the window, her arms hugging her chest. The blood that splattered that pale skin had been removed, clothes changed and hair moist from a recent shower.

“Did you show that to Lynea to convince her too?” Revara asked, her jaw locked in a fine line.

“Nay, I did not.” Enola answered shamefully.

“If that is the life that you want, then I will fulfill my aunt’s final wish. What do we need to do?”